


two weeks

by yasgorl



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, Sadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 14:12:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9902822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yasgorl/pseuds/yasgorl
Summary: Betty opens the back door to find Veronica standing at the foot of the porch steps, duffel held in front of her like she’s waiting for a train, dropped in Betty’s backyard from another era.





	

Betty opens the back door to find Veronica standing at the foot of the porch steps, duffle held in front of her like she’s waiting for a train, dropped in Betty’s backyard from another era. An hour ago they were washing up after cheer practice. Now, Veronica’s standing there in her pearls and heels, hair as sleek as a seal’s back. She’s wearing a navy blue jumper with sequins on the hemline. 

“Where’s the cape?” Betty asks. She moves out onto the porch and the screen door slams shut behind her. 

“You said we were meeting for Bio tonight,” Veronica says, ignoring the question. She climbs the steps smoothly and walks past Betty. She stops at the door, shrugging her shoulder as Betty stares, the ghost of a smile at her lips. Betty huffs out a laugh, and shakes her head. 

“Mi casa es su casa,” she says. There’s a weird pause as Veronica just stares and Betty waits for her to move. Then something clicks.

“Oh,” Betty says. She reaches out and pulls the screen out for Veronica, leaning forward to push the interior door open. Veronica just gives her the same, searing look she’s had since day one. Since Betty first saw her gliding into the Chock’lit Shoppe like a summoned spirit. A flush crawls up Betty’s throat.

“Thanks,” Veronica says. Then she turns into the house and Betty follows. 

*

“So what’s the plan,” Veronica says, once they’re both inside Betty’s bedroom. Betty can’t decide whether it had been better, trailing after Veronica in her own home like a lost duckling, or if she would have felt more awkward having Veronica follow, hyperaware of what she looked like from behind, knowing Veronica’s clever gaze was sweeping over the contents of Betty’s house. 

She’s suddenly, morbidly aware of her own room like she’s never been before. 

“Um, flashcards?” Betty suggests, feeling stupid. She feels stiff as she turns her back to Veronica, searching her desk drawers for supplies. She tries to remember the last time she changed her sheets. Her mother only gave that up recently, a hard won victory. Betty had gotten good at making hiding places throughout her room, nooks and crannies and upturned floorboards where her mother’s prying hands wouldn’t wander. 

“Fine with me,” Veronica replies simply. The soft lilt of her voice makes the hair stand at the back of Betty’s neck. “I’m more of a visual learner.”

It’s as innocuous a statement as anything, but somehow Betty’s ears burn anyway. She sits heavily at her desk and watches her hand reach out, pulling the top drawer open. 

When Betty turns Veronica’s still perched on the end of her bed, poise perfect like she’s seated for a parade. Betty has the distinct feeling that Veronica’s somehow catalogued everything in the few seconds she’s been turned away. Her eyes are dark and merry, that edge of a smile at her lips like she’d just telepathically shared some joke.

“Split in half?” Betty offers. She’s got to stop being weird about this. And this was good, studying with Veronica. They’d get everything done twice as fast. 

“Sure,” Veronica says. She reaches out in one smooth move and takes the cards from Betty’s hands, sticking a thumb in the middle. She tilts her head to the side to indicate the spot beside her, cards a white blur in her hands as she flips through. Betty walks the few steps over and sits down. She watches the silver gleam of Veronica’s bracelet, sliding on smooth skin. When she looks up Veronica’s eyes are on her.

“Let’s get to work,” she says with a grin. 

*

Veronica pairs up with Betty at cheer practice. Cheryl stalks the sideline, shouting instructions, the high jut of her ponytail gleaming in the sun. Betty can smell her sunblock from ten feet away, the precise, rhythmic sway of her hips a counterpoint to the rod-straight line of her back. 

“Ignore her,” Veronica says cheerily. She puts a firm hand on Betty’s shoulder from behind, turning her ever so slightly. It’s a grounding touch. Betty feels the irritable buzz of distraction shoot through her like an arrow, dispelling into the earth. 

She claps in time with the squad this time. Cheryl’s lips purse sourly.  

“Good,” Veronica says under her breath, satisfied. Betty feels her ears burn. The sun is beginning to sink behind the bleachers in the distance. Betty keeps her eyes straight forward and raises her arm up, shakes her fist in count. 

*

A week later it’s Friday and Betty slips on a patch of wet turf during practice. She ends up with a scrape on her thigh like a bloody skidmark.

“I’ll help,” Veronica calls out instantly. She’s right at Betty’s side, pulling her up with a strong grip. Betty hisses as she gets to her feet. 

Cheryl looks at Betty like she’s gone and thrown up, or wet her pants, her slim nose scrunched up in disgust. “You’re dismissed,” she says, hands settling at her hips. 

“Don’t get your thong in a twist, Blossom, we’re leaving,” Veronica shoots back. One hand settles on the small of Betty’s back, the other grips Betty’s forearm to steer her through the parting crowd. Betty feels a hot wave of shame flood her chest as they walk away. Her knee feels stiff. Grass pokes at the backs of her calves, and her thigh burns with every step. 

They make it to the locker room. 

“Sit,” Veronica says, nudging Betty towards a bench. 

“God, that was embarrassing,” Betty says. She tries to laugh and it gets stuck in her throat. She watches Veronica move gracefully around the echoing room, opening a cabinet, taking out a First Aid kit. Her eyes skid away from the mirror behind Veronica. She shuts them and breathes deep. 

_ What did I tell you, Elizabeth? _

“--your arm up,” Veronica is saying. She’s standing in front of Betty, an antiseptic wipe in her hand. She’s watching Betty carefully. Betty raises her hand numbly and Veronica swipes at the side of her palm where Betty’d broken her fall. She unwraps a bandaid, spreads a dollop of Neosporin on the underside, and places it on the side of Betty’s hand efficiently. 

“Sorry,” Betty says automatically. 

“Could have happened to anyone. It’s probably gonna happen a lot more,” Veronica says. “Let me see your leg.”

Her hair brushes Betty’s arm as she leans down, squatting so she’s eye level with the bench. 

“It’ll heal up in no time,” Veronica says. She pushes Betty’s skirt up to bare her thigh. “Hand here.”

Betty obeys, holding her skirt to her side. She hisses as the wipe meets tender skin. Veronica doesn’t look up from her work. Her eyelashes are a thick, black smudge. The pink tip of her tongue emerges as she cleans the wound. She places three bandaids side to side over the scrape. When she stands back up, her eyes are dark pools, the color high in her cheeks. 

“Thanks,” Betty says, throat dry. Confusion and something like fear sweeps through her. She feels pinned in place, like she’s shown something she didn’t mean to show, doesn’t know what she’s shown exactly.

“No biggie,” Veronica says easily. She washes up and sets the kit away. Then she opens both their lockers, setting aside the things Betty will take home with her, chattering away as her hands move elegantly through the air. 

“It’s like the first time I got to surf at Waikiki, you know? You get up on that board and the sun’s beating down on you and you’re as balanced as a lush and after the millionth try you finally catch a wave, right?” 

“Right,” Betty echoes. She’s stupidly thankful in the moment, a wave of gratefulness battering at her chest. She watches the smooth muscle in Veronica’s thighs as she bends down to grabs their things, moving towards the exit. Veronica holds the door open for Betty and walks her to the parking lot. 

*

Betty’s desk is an inch off that evening, an indent in the rug where the leg had pinned the fabric down with its weight for weeks. Betty’s cardigans are stacked at the foot of her bed, a neat column of soft pastels. 

Veronica doesn’t answer when Betty texts. Archie’s window is a black rectangle in the dusk light, blinds shuttered. 

She locks her door and lays herself out carefully on her bed. There’s a grass stain on her knee when she pulls her leg up, wincing through the twinge in her thigh. She would have thought Veronica would have been burned after Chuck, but the next day she’d taken another guy’s number at lunch, smiling benevolently as he’d thumbed it into her contact list, Betty waiting at her side. Betty’d wondered how far Veronica went, sitting in cars with boys, what she’d done in New York before she came here. 

She slides her hand carefully down her front. She keeps her eyes on the ceiling and thinks about the difference between this: a hand on her navel, a hand pressing between her legs, a hand sliding under her skirt. It’s easier then to part her legs carefully and tilt her hips up. She imagines herself having to defend this, absurdly,  _ I was just checking. _ She slides her fingers down her slit and back up, gathering wet. Her cheeks go warm. Her clit’s swollen and ready. She traces a fingertip lightly on both sides, feels a tickle of sensation start up. She pinches her clit between two fingers; lightly, then harder until she gasps. She thinks about Veronica the way Betty might see her, if Betty was an omniscient presence plastered against the windshield, watching thick, rough fingers slide between Veronica’s legs. She thinks about Veronica smiling and rocking her hips, and rubs at her clit faster, sensation building steadily. Her pussy clenches and she comes hard in no time, her free hand clenched into a fist at her side.

*

“Ugh,” Veronica says, as she opens the front door for Betty. “I need a total body cleanse.”

“Spiritually? Physically?” Betty asks, instantly smiling. She crosses the threshold and maps the layout of Veronica’s swanky apartment. It’s wide and airy and more expensive looking than Betty’s entire house and their family cars combined. Veronica waves her over to the kitchen. There’s a pot of broth boiling on the shiny, black stove, vegetables lined up in various states of wash and assembly on the counter. When Betty cooks she has to count everything out in cups and tablespoons and assigned weights on the kitchen scale. Veronica starts chopping as soon as Betty takes a seat on a bar stool, and just throws everything directly into the pot.

“Mom’s been bringing home burgers and fries every night. Cut me and I’ll bleed saturated fat.”

Betty snorts in sympathy. Veronica keeps talking as she slices carrots, the gleaming knife moving easily through the tough vegetable flesh, her fingertips tucked in like a pro. 

Betty winces as she swings her bag forward. She starts pulling out her homework, stacking it on the kitchen counter. 

“Smells good. I love chicken soup in winter,” Betty says. She can’t remember the last time she’s had it, but if feels like the right thing to say. Salads for summer, soup for winter.  _ A place for everything, everything in it’s place. _

Veronica smiles wide, like Betty’s said something very stupid. Betty feels her cheeks flame. She snaps her head down to her notebook, flips blindly through the pages.

*

They eat in the living room. Veronica props her tablet on Betty’s bag and chooses something from Netflix for them to watch. They leave their bowls in the sink afterwards, and Veronica leads Betty to her room.

“Can I see it?” Veronica asks, once Betty’s done a short tour of the space. She perches on the edge of her bed, crosses her legs at the knee. Betty’s thoughts stutter to a halt. She watches Veronica’s foot sway in the air, playful.

“See it?” Betty repeats, stupidly. Her heart clenches in her chest. She’s suddenly, terribly aware of every part of her body. Rigid all the way down, the bandage under her jeans like a beacon. She has a vivid image of pulling her pants down right then and there, obeying Veronica.

Veronica’s smile grows. Her lipstick’s a stark contrast against the white of her teeth. Betty takes a step forward, then stops. 

“Come here,” Veronica says, sweet as sugar. She pats the spot next to her on the mattress. Betty walks over like her joints have rusted, stilted, set to flame from head to toe. Veronica’s silent as Betty sits next to her. It’s like she’s somewhere just to Veronica’s left, watching her own fingers unbuttoning the front, the wriggle of her hips as she pulls her jeans down to her knees. Veronica is silent for a long moment, staring down at the bandages Betty had replaced that morning like she can see right through them. Then Veronica places a hand right over them, the tips of her fingers pressed against Betty’s thigh. Betty can see it happening right before it does, she makes a high sound in her throat, a helpless whine as Veronica tightens her grip, digging firmly into Betty’s flesh. 

“Ronnie,” Betty squeaks out. Veronica keeps the pressure up, deeper. She’s focused on Betty’s thigh, leaning into it. Betty curls forward as pain burns through her leg, four points of pressure blossoming  into a wave of heat. Veronica lets up suddenly. Betty’s gasps fill the silence. Veronica smoothes her hand over Betty’s thigh. She’s close enough Betty can feel a puff of breath against the side of her neck. 

“How does it feel?” Veronica asks. She keeps petting at Betty, consolatory, gentle. Betty reaches out blindly. She feels like if she turns her head she might melt on the spot. Implode. The air feels electric around her, the colors of the rug under her curled toes shockingly bright. 

“Hurts,” Betty says. She reaches out with her hand and grips Veronica’s wrist, like a question. She feels the delicate twist of Veronica’s arm under her fingers as Veronica makes a humming sound, considering, then digs her fingers in again. Betty cries out. Veronica holds down longer and harder this time, until Betty’s eyes are wet. She grips at Veronica’s wrist helplessly, curling her fingers tight and loose, but not enough to pull Veronica away. The pain explodes into a living thing, expanding like a mist inside her, shooting in overwhelming pulses through her body. 

“Sweet Betty,” Veronica whispers, digging deeper. Betty lets out a sob. A hot tear slides down her cheek and hits the back of Veronica’s hand. Veronica lets up as suddenly as she started, leaving Betty gasping. 

“Lie down,” Veronica says, standing up. Her voice is airy like she’s catching her breath. Her throat is flushed. She smooths down the front of her dress. “I’ll get you a wrap.” 

Betty shakes, hot all over. She lets out a strangled sound. She expects a reprimand flung at her like a blade through the air, but Veronica just steps closer. She slides a gentle hand over the side of Betty’s hot face.  _ Oh, for heaven’s sake. _

Betty bites down a sob, racking through her in a wave. 

“Cry all you want,” Veronica says. 

* 

Betty’s only sniffling slightly by the time Veronica makes her way back from the bathroom. Betty didn’t know they made bandage kits as sleek as the one Veronica has in her hands. Its black exterior gleams in the low light. The AC’s ticked on in Veronica’s absence, washing over Betty’s flushed body and setting her skin to goosebumps.

She blows her nose quietly on the tissue Veronica hands her, after settling at Betty’s side. Veronica tucks her legs in tailor-style, smiling in satisfaction as she nimbly flips the kit open. Betty feels like a doll, laid out for a game of doctor. 

“Wasn’t so bad,” Veronica says softly. Then, “push your hips up.”

She pulls Betty’s panties off with a swift yank. Betty watches the reveal of her skin with the strangest sense of  déjà vu, like the room’s tilting around them, Veronica’s bed the nucleus in the center.

“This hasn’t happened before,” Betty says. It sounds like a question.

“I know,” Veronica replies, smiling. The words are a raspy tongue, licking out at a pointy canine. “Lucky me.”

*

Betty pulls a leg free from her jeans and underwear so she can spread properly the way Veronica wants her to, a hand pushing down on Betty’s shoulder to keep her steady. Veronica slips two fingers between Betty’s legs. She’s hot and wet, and it registers visibly on Veronica’s face. Her mouth falls open. She tucks her chin down, inspecting Betty, curiosity marring the smooth plane of her forehead, like she’s figuring out how Betty works. 

“Poor pussy’s soaking,” Veronica says. She rubs up Betty’s slit and pushes her clit around with her wet fingers. It’s a careless, rough gesture, but Betty feels herself get even wetter. She lets out a small, helpless sound. Veronica’s hand goes firm on her shoulder. She pushes both fingers in without preamble, shocking a breathless gasp from Betty. She’s hot for it immediately, her face burning as Veronica feels around, sliding her fingers in a slow circle, rubbing at Betty’s insides. There’s a tickle of sensation deep inside her, eager and desperate. Veronica turns her fingers so she’s pressing them up towards Betty’s stomach. She moves them there, rubbing and prodding around.

“ _ Ah, _ ” Betty lets out. There’s a spark, sharp yet far away. Veronica wiggles her fingers up and down. It’s  a crude, embarrassing movement, but Betty feels her pussy swell even as her chest floods warm. The spot of sensation crescendos suddenly. Betty cries out, squirms in place. The scrape on her thigh throbs to life from a dull, background sensation. Veronica keeps doing it, a short swipe around before she’s jamming her fingers back against that spot, and Betty can feel the wet grow, she can hear it, a mortifying, obscene sound.

“Veronica,” Betty says helplessly. She grips the sheets at her side, eyes wide as she watches where Veronica’s fingers disappear inside her, the rough movement of Veronica’s hand between her legs.

“Nasty little cunt,” Veronica says, soothingly, smiling wide. She slides a hand down Betty’s stomach. “Listen to it, sweetie. Our good Betty and her slutty little pussy.”

“Oh god,” Betty grits out. She feels like she wants to disappear on the spot but she finds herself pushing into it anyway, tilts her hips up and jams her pussy down to meet Veronica’s fingers, exactly what Veronica says she is. It builds inside her with every thrust, blood pooling between her legs, her pussy hot and swollen. “Ahh, ahhh.” Her hips seize a moment before the sharp sensation in her cunt builds and crashes. Veronica keeps fucking her through it, relentlessly.

“Yeah, girl. What a good slut,” Veronica whispers. She only stops once Betty is whimpering and wrung out, shaking through the last aftershocks, knee knocking laxly into Veronica’s side. Veronica smoothes her hand over Betty’s thigh, tapping it gently against her bandage so she whimpers. Then she gets on her knees and swings a leg over Betty, crawling forward, her hands sliding down to pull up her skirt.

*

Betty’s the last person to turn in her test. The walk to the front desk might as well be a mile long, the door swinging behind her like the blade of a guillotine as she exits.

“Your apocalyptic mood is a sure sign you’ve got this,” Kevin says airily. He hip checks his locker closed and tugs at a stray curl of hair at his forehead, smoothing it to the side. His eyes slide along the bustling corridor. Betty clutches her books to her chest and leans her forehead against the cool metal of Kevin’s locker. She scrunches her eyes shut tight and tries to breathe through her nose. She thinks about Veronica’s sharp nails digging into her thigh, the way the tips of her fingers had gone white with pressure, her mouth dropping open silently, the dark of her eyes. The worst of the healing is over. Now it’s mostly tenderness and color; blue and green and yellow.

“Cheer up, Bettycup,” Veronica’s smooth voice interrupts. She’s fresh faced, pearls gleaming at her throat. Her eyes slide down Betty’s length. Kevin laughs lightly in the background. 

“Whatever it is, we’ll get you fixed in no time,” Veronica says. Betty wonders how she could possibly know. 

Veronica bestows Betty with a smile, as gracious as royalty, and turns. Betty falls into step at her side.

*


End file.
